


Lids down, I count heartbeats

by pearwaldorf



Category: Destiny (Video Game)
Genre: Insomnia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2018-02-11 20:38:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2082360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearwaldorf/pseuds/pearwaldorf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She does not know if it is a side effect of being dead and then, well, not, but her insomnia is terrible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lids down, I count heartbeats

She does not know if it is a side effect of being dead and then, well, not, but her insomnia is terrible. She tries to stay in her room, but the restlessness becomes too much, and she finds herself walking the hallways of the tower or curled up in a chair in one of the common areas, watching the lights of the city below. She never sees any of the other Guardians on her nightly ambles, so she wonders if she is the only one who has this problem. She wishes she could ask some of them, but she doesn’t know any of them well enough to approach them on anything not mission related.

She remembers very little of her life before, but she does not feel like it is an ailment she suffered from previously. Or maybe that’s just something they want her to think. Of course, she’s not exactly sure who “they” might even be in this case. The Speaker, perhaps, or maybe even the Traveler itself. There is so much she does not know, and does not understand at all. She looks into the inscrutable face of the Traveler, and she wonders if she tried hard enough, if she could talk to it. But it remains silent, and she is left with only more questions.

—

It is the umpteenth sleepless night, and she rolls over, knocking into her nightstand. She grunts, more surprised at the impact than actually hurt. It knocks her Ghost’s shell askew from its base, and she replaces it gently. It blinks once, as if shaken awake.

“Are you there, Ghost? Did I wake you?” She feels silly addressing it, even though she would have no hesitation doing so in the field. It is different here somehow, more intimate.

“I am always here, Guardian.” She does not expect to be so relieved by that statement, said so matter-of-factly it feels like a law of nature. “To answer your other question, I do not sleep as such, but I do have idle cycles when my services are not needed.” A pause. “Do you require them?” She could swear it sounds more solicitous than usual, almost concerned. 

“I haven’t been sleeping well lately.” It is an understatement, but not exactly inaccurate. Her Ghost makes a noise, which she decides to interpret as sympathetic. “I can make no recommendations for improvement to your sleep hygiene, as it appears to be following medically established best practices. If you were human I would suggest a glass of warm milk, but the inability of Awakened to digest lactose precludes this.”

“Your concern is touching.” She doesn’t mean for her remark to come out as sarcastic as it does, but the light on her Ghost’s front becomes rosy, as if embarrassed.

“My apologies. I’m used to approaching problems from a solution-oriented perspective, and I realize it is not always the most appropriate one.” Another pause. “It has been a long time since I’ve had extended dealings with a being that has physical needs. It’s easy to forget sometimes how fragile you can be.” It sounds sad, and she wonders how old her Ghost is, how much it has seen and lost. She ponders inquiring further, but it feels like one of those admissions that can only come in the small hours, when the barriers of the daytime are gone.

Something stirs in the back of her mind, and she puts her arms on top of her pillow, then her head on her arms. Her Ghost turns towards her.

“Tell me a story?”

“What?” It sounds like it wants to oblige, but is confused as to why it’s being asked.

“I remember this. From before. When I couldn’t sleep, somebody would tell me stories, just like this.” It is the only sure thing she knows, and it seems important. Not just to remember, but to do. “Please.”

“Since you asked nicely. But only because of that.” Her Ghost’s voice is warm and comforting, and she finds her eyes getting heavy. She fully intends on still listening as they close.

The next thing she sees is light shining in the windows. She shifts, and pulls off the blanket draped over her back. Her Ghost is in its usual place on her nightstand, but slightly askew, as if curious.

“I trust you slept well, Guardian?” She stretches long and deep, feeling clear and rested for the first time in a while.

“I did indeed.” She touches her Ghost’s shell, rubbing her thumb against one of its points. “Thank you.” It makes a noise that she would interpret as flustered, if it came from an organic.

“I am glad, and I am glad to serve you in any way I can.” It floats up, heading towards the door. “Shall we get on with our day?” She gets out of bed and tugs on a robe.

“I’m ready if you are.”

“Always.”


End file.
